


Sweet As Sugar

by sariane



Series: Asgard Bakery [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Gen, Humor, barista!Darcy, basically this is just a set-up for this 'verse, bitchy cashier!Loki, lots of cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at a bakery isn't nearly as glamorous as Darcy once imagined, but, hey, she needs the money, some of the customers are kinda cute, and she owed Jane the favor.</p>
<p>She just didn't know what she was getting herself into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet As Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pardon_the_egg_salad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pardon_the_egg_salad/gifts).



> Once upon a time, my best friend moved 500 miles away, where her life promptly became some kind of Bakery College AU and I foolishly promised to write her a Bakery AU with her favorite Avengers.
> 
> I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to update this ‘verse after this fic, but if I do so, it will probably be in smaller, standalone stories that all tie together. I really have no idea where this is going. Welp.
> 
> I don’t know how to make snazzy coffee drinks or how to run a bakery, so my apologies for any inaccuracies!
> 
> Anyways: To Allison. I miss your face. Merry Christmas! PLEASE COME BACK.
> 
> Thanks to A. and Carson for letting me bounce ideas off you and not thinking this is a totally weird thing? Because it kind of is? And thanks to mericpourlevenin526 for the extremely helpful input! I really appreciate it. Ilu guys. <3
> 
> WARNINGS FOR:  
> -Loki being a dick.  
> -Gratuitous hating on hipsters.   
> -Swearing.

_Help Wanted"_

The sign in the door was like a beacon to the unemployed; there were teenagers and twenty-somethings trying desperately to pay off college debt, hipsters whose wildest dreams were to work in a tiny bakery, and dudebros who showed up hungover and tried to hit on any woman in sight.

Darcy owed that sign her job, yeah, but she kind of hated seeing it hung up out front again.

"Have we had any applicants?" Thor asked, poking his head through the double doors that led to the kitchen. He had flour on his nose somehow; Darcy suspected Jane.

"We haven't even opened yet," Loki pointed out in a bored voice, not even bothering to look up from his iPhone. Darcy glanced over to where he was leaning against the counter, phone inches from his face, and wondered if he was watching anime again (or porn). She was never sure with him.

"Yeah, and we never will open if _somebody_ doesn't get his ass into gear," Darcy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest to glare at Loki. He finally looked up from the glow of his phone and raised an eyebrow.

"My work is done," he said simply, waving a hand over the spotless counter and display case.

"Yeah, well, mine isn't," Darcy grumbled, "and neither is all the work we've got between us to make up for the 'Waiters Three' skipping town. Ass into gear or gear _into_ ass, make up your mind,” she growled, pulling her glasses down to glare at Loki over the rims. “Look at you, trembling in your designer black leather boots. Bow down to me, minion!”

“You can’t see without your glasses,” Loki reminded her. Darcy stuck out her tongue.

"Loki, until we can find new waiters, we _all_ have to pitch in," Jane said as she stepped out of the kitchen, clutching a tray of freshly-made scones. She sidestepped her boyfriend and unsubtly elbowed him.

Darcy wasn’t quite sure what leverage Thor held over his brother, but with a look from Thor, Loki  tucked his phone back into the pocket of his green apron. With a curt nod, Loki took the scones from Jane and began to set out the baked goods in the brightly lit glass display case.

Jane lingered in the front for a few moments, glancing tentatively at Thor and Darcy in turn. Darcy sighed and steeled herself.

“What is it, boss?” Darcy said placatingly, swallowing a sign.

"Do you mind covering Sif's shift today?” Jane asked desperately. “She has the flu, and we really need the extra help.” Darcy looked Jane up and down, from the frazzled ends of her ponytail to the bags under her eyes, and the mess of frosting and flower on her sweater and apron.

"Sure," Darcy found herself saying, although she had a date with a textbook and ramen noodles planned after her shift.

"Thanks," Jane said, melting in relief. Thor affectionately slung an arm around her in comfort, a soft smile on his face. Loki turned away with a pinched look on his face. He pulled his phone back out of his pocket.

As Darcy opened her mouth to break the silence, the clock tower down the road began to chime, marking six in the morning. Thor lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I believe it is time to open!” Thor said cheerfully over the chimes. He pulled Jane towards the kitchen with him by the loops on her jeans. “Come, we must finish the bagels. Darcy, will you--?”

“Got it!” Darcy called, already throwing open the squeaky counter divider to skip to the front of the store. She flipped the sign in the window to ‘ _Open_ ,’ propped the door, and set the chalkboard sign that read ‘ASGARD BAKERY’ out on the front sidewalk.

She dusted off her hands and smiled as the street began to fill with people on their early trek to work or school. The sun was shining promisingly over the town, birds were singing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Extra shift or not, today was going to be a great day.

*

It was a horrible day.

Loki was tired of the screaming children, the business men on their lunch breaks who told him to hurry, the kids who skipped class at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and looked around the bakery with shifty eyes. He was sick of Darcy with her ceaseless yapping, the way she hummed as she ran the espresso machine, and how she muttered orders under her breath as she made them.

She was slow with orders, didn’t clean up the tables to snuff, and made conversation with customers while leaving others waiting. She obviously wasn't equipped to be a waitress. Loki hoped that the replacements they found for Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandrall were acceptable.

Loki knew his hopes were in vain.

The door had barely been open for a minute before a young woman stepped across the threshold. She wore tall, killer heels and a black leather jacket over dress pants. Her hair was red, like her lipstick. Loki heard Darcy's low whistle as the woman stepped up to the counter.

"How may I help you?" Loki sighed, unimpressed.

"I'd like to submit an application for your job opening," she said, pulling a manila folder out of her clearly designer bag and offering it to Loki. He raised an eyebrow, but wordlessly opened it and glanced at the meticulously filled out application. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but was inevitably interrupted by Darcy.

"We _just_ put up the sign," Darcy said. "How did you--?"

"Thank you for your application," Loki said, unsmiling. He slipped the application back in its folder and shoved it under the counter. "Would you like to order anything?"

"I'll have a Black Eye," the woman replied, eyes barely glancing up at the menu.

"For here or to go?"

"To go."

"Your drink will be ready at the other end of the counter," Loki said, although no one else had yet entered the bakery.

As he counted the woman's change, Loki watched Darcy out of the corner of his eye. She was trying not to stare and doing a bad job of it, and consequently took slightly too long pulling one of her espresso shots. Darcy turned slightly red and, after pulling the second shot of espresso and finishing the drink, capped the lid onto the cup with a snap.

Darcy set the Black Eye onto the counter and lingered there while the woman took her drink. Loki rolled his eyes. Pathetic.

"Sick heels," Darcy blurted out. The woman took a sip of the scalding hot coffee, considered it for a moment, and looked at Darcy.

"Nice coffee," she said, not missing a beat.

Darcy stood by Loki's side as they watched the woman leave the bakery, pausing once out on the sidewalk to snap a picture of the sign with her phone.

"What was that about?" Darcy said once she had passed their storefront.

"Instagram, perhaps?" Loki said airily. "May I suggest searching 'hashtag O.M.G. ex-presso!'?"

"I can't believe you just said 'O.M.G.,'" Darcy said. "Seriously. That woman knows coffee, not Instagram. Pinterest, maaaaybe. LinkedIn, definitely."

"Yes, she's a businesswoman. That's why she wants to work as a minimum-wage waitress at a bakery," Loki replied dryly.

"Plus tips!" Jane yelled from the kitchen, setting Loki's teeth on edge. Darcy laughed.

"And, of course," he gritted out, "tips."

"Whatever," Darcy rolled her eyes. "I hope she gets hired. She's got kickass footwear."

"In the end, her fate lies in the interview," Thor said as he came out of the kitchen with a tray of bagels to set into the display case. Loki stepped out of his Thor’s way and avoided the look his brother gave him.

"Not like that's gonna be a rough screening process," Darcy muttered when Thor had disappeared back into kitchen. Loki surveyed Darcy curiously. "I mean, he hired _you,_ after all,” she clarified.

Loki aimed a smile at Darcy, as slithery as a snake and twice as tricky, just to see her shiver before he turned back to the counter to greet the first few customers of the morning.

*

"…No, but the entire _point_ of Tom Bombadil is unnecessary! I get it, you say his perspective grants the epic more depth, but it doesn't really need --"

"If you get rid of him, you miss the point of it even being an _epic_ , Tony. The theme of man versus nature, the cost of modernization…it's lost without something to represent nature. Bombadil comes from the past. He _is_ nature. He's essential to point out that, while not everything pure can be corrupted, it can be destroyed if it's not protected," Bruce said, calmly. Tony dramatically threw his hands in the air.

"You've seen the movies, like, a billion times. The story and its symbolism loose _nothing_ when Bombadil is cut out. He's a freaking hippie, he's not essential," Tony slashed his hands through the air and then folded them over his chest, staring pointedly at Bruce as though he'd actually won the argument.

"He is essential to the concept that even those with great power can choose not to use it," Bruce said, "or that not everything in the world has an answer."

"See, and that's why I don't like him," Tony said. "He's never explained. Who is he? Where did he come from? What the hell is he doing in Middle Earth? What kind of drugs is he on? It brings up a load of questions that are never answered in the narrative."

"There are a lot of questions that are never answered in the narrative," Bruce frowned, "that's why there's --"

"May I take your order?"

Bruce turned with a slight start. He'd been so absorbed by his and Tony's conversation that he hadn't even realized that they'd already arrived at Asgard Bakery. He looked at the cashier, Loki, who stared at him with a bored expression.

"Well?" Loki said. He tapped his long, pale fingers against the edge of the cash register.

"The usual," Tony waved his hand nonchalantly, "you know. Anyways, what do you think, Loki? Is Tom Bombadil unnecessary or what?"

"That's a loaded question," Bruce protested.

"I'm sorry," Loki said flatly, "we don't serve any drinks or pastries under that name."

"Seriously?" Tony sighed. "We're doing this today, Loki? You know what, hey, Sif--"

The barista turned, but the bobbing brunette ponytail didn't belong to Sif.

"You aren't Sif," Tony frowned.

"She's out with the flu," the replacement barista said. "Sorry about Loki, he was born with this personality disorder known as 'being a dick.' What can I get you?"

"Uh, a large Caffé Latte, with an extra shot of espresso, two pumps chocolate syrup, one raspberry, one almond, and extra whipped cream. And," he glanced at Bruce for a second, "a small Chai Tea Latte with a shot of espresso." The girl turned to look at Bruce, as if to confirm the craziness of Tony's order. He nodded once. She stared at him for a second, her eyes growing large. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"And a slice of cinnamon coffee cake and a chocolate chip scone, please," he added, his voice quiet in comparison to Tony’s.

"Is that for here or to go?" Loki asked in a bored voice.

"To go," Tony said apologetically. "I know you'd love to chat,” he said, winking, “but today, we've got papers to grade.” Loki told them their total and Tony handed over a bill, waving off Loki's attempt to give them change and telling him to put it in the tip jar, as usual.

"You mean, _I've_ got papers to grade," Bruce said, rolling his eyes. " _You've_ got papers to give to Pepper to grade."

"Hey, that's what she's paid for," Tony protested, missing Bruce's point entirely.

"Names for those?" the replacement barista interrupted, still staring at Bruce. When he turned to look at her, she blushed, ducking her head slightly and clutching a cup in her hand.

"Tony Stark," Tony said, smiling. "Nice to meet you."

"Bruce," Bruce said simply, squinting at the woman. "You…aren't one of my students at U.H.C., are you? You look--"

"Uh, no," she said, flustered, "unless you teach one of the Gen. Ed. classes I used to skip all the time back in -- not that I skip classes anymore, I -- it's just -- No, I've never taken one of your classes." She pressed her lips together and bit one of them. She ducked her head and turned to the espresso machine to make their drinks.

Bruce and Tony lingered by the counter as they waited for Loki to finish bagging their pastries at the speed of a snail. He pushed the two bags across the counter and turned to glare at the next customer.

"What are you studying?" Tony asked the barista curiously, although she was obviously trying to avoid them.

"Political science," she answered as she pumped syrup into Tony’s drink.

"You look too young to be undergrad," Tony said.

"I'm not," she said as she started on Bruce’s drink. "Trying to get my Master's. Are you talking about Pepper Potts? She was in my dorm."

"Yeah, she's my TA," Tony nodded. "My field is Engineering. Also Physics. Sometimes Business."

"You're insane," the barista said, awe apparent on her face. She pulled an espresso shot from the machine with practiced ease, staring at Tony in a new light.

"I've told him the same many times before," Bruce said, grinning at Tony when he turned in protest.

"Pot, kettle," Tony said to him. He turned back to the barista and whispered conspiratorially, "He's got a PhD in Nuclear Physics."

"Hi, I'm Darcy," the barista said, popping the lids on their drinks, "I make coffee and generate college debt."

"Nice to meet you," Bruce said politely, taking his Chai Latte from her with a slight smile. She grinned at him.

Darcy held out Tony's complicated drink. He flinched.

"I don't like being handed things --" he started, but Bruce just took the coffee from Darcy with an apologetic look. Bruce could feel her gaze on them as he and Tony performed their strange little dance; Tony set out a cup holder on the counter, Bruce placed the cup inside of it, and Tony slid it over his drink as he picked it up and took a sip. Darcy eyed them curiously.

"Thanks," Bruce said to Darcy before they left.

"Have a nice day," she said brightly, "and, for the record, I think Tom Bombadil is pretty essential when it comes to understanding the tone of the trilogy, and the significance of Hobbits becoming involved in the War of the Ring." At that, Bruce turned to Tony and smiled smugly.

"Ugh, see if I come here again," Tony said, throwing an arm around Bruce's shoulder as they walked out of the bakery, clutching their drinks and pastries. "Honey, you know I'm right."

Bruce laughed and let Tony lead him back to campus.

*

"Damn," Darcy sighed when the last customers of the afternoon rush had walked away. "The good men are always gay."

"In my experience, it's quite the opposite," Loki murmured.

"Wow," Darcy said. "Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?" She cupped her hands over her mouth and announced to the bakery at large, "Attention everyone, Loki just made a joke! Write down this day in history! Call the papers!" A few people looked up from their e-readers and conversations long enough to glance at Darcy.

"Poke fun all you want," Loki said. "At least I'm not mooning over a man old enough to be my father."

"He's not _that_ old!" Darcy protested. She considered for a moment. "He didn’t _look_ that old, at least. But, if he has a PhD…" she frowned and walked over to the kitchen doors, throwing them open to yell, "Jane? What's the least amount of time it takes to get a PhD in nuclear physics?" She turned back to Loki. "I feel like I should know that."

Jane looked up from frosting a batch of pink cookies and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, smearing frosting over her forehead in the process.

"Bruce is in his forties," Jane answered unhelpfully.

"Gee, thanks," Darcy muttered, letting the doors swing shut behind her. She turned back to Loki. "You know, biologically, you can father kids when you're, like, 12, so I think that phrase is dumb."

"Ah," Loki said, "I amend my previous statement. He's nearly old enough to be your grandfather."

"I would hit you with this rag," Darcy frowned, holding up her cleaning cloth, "but I'm pretty sure you'd press charges."

"The threat alone is enough for that," Loki said, sending her one of his creepy, fox-sly grins. She barely had time to figure out a comeback before he said, "I'm going on my lunch break."

"Seriously?" she asked. "I was going to take _mine._ "

"Yes, I am quite serious," Loki said. "You remember how to use the cash register, I presume?" he continued condescendingly, as though she hadn't covered for him before. Darcy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Loki as he hung up his spotless green apron and exited through the door marked _'Employees Only.'_

Of course, that's when a crowd of teenagers -- fresh from the end of the day at Xavier's -- swarmed through the bakery doors.

"Thanks, Loki," Darcy muttered as they scuffed the floors with their Converse high tops and argued about had to order first.

Twenty minutes later, after Darcy was sick of printing out names like "Rogue" and "Iceman" on cups (she was pretty sure the last one was a nickname, anyways) and embarrassed herself by having to call Thor out of the kitchen to help with the workload, she sighed in relief. The teens were sitting on the tables outside the bakery (yes, _on_ , and if they weren't gone in 15 minutes, she'd have to go yell at them), and Loki _still_ wasn't back yet.

Darcy leaned against the counter, her back to the register, and groaned, burying her head in her hands.

“Really, Kate? We can’t just, I don’t know, bribe the team to let us use the field?” Darcy turned to see a blonde guy walking up to the counter, a confused expression on his face as he talked loudly into his cell phone. “The kid said _what_? No, Severus Snape is not a real person, there’s no way those Quidditch geeks are – Snape is _not_ the name of their coach. You’re kidding me.”

Darcy watched the man with amusement as he scowled while the other person on the phone talked. He was pretty cute, with messy hair and arms almost as huge as Thor’s.

“Kate – Kate,” he repeated placatingly. “Just tell them Coach Barton is on his way and – no, I’m not getting coffee. I’m in the car. That’s just the radio. I’m on my way.” He stopped with his hands on the counter and sighed.

The man held the phone away from his ear as Darcy stepped up to the register, not bothering to hide the amusement on her face. It was loud enough that she could hear someone screeching, “ _Oh my god, you’re on the phone while driving? You’re going to die. I’m hanging up on you!”_ before the call ended. The blonde sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Girlfriend troubles?” she asked in commiseration.

“Oh, _god,_ no,” he said, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. Darcy decided to redact her previous statement. He was _really_ cute _._ “I coach a local community archery team. The team captain is driving me nuts. The high school’s Quidditch team is booked for the football field, even though I reserved it months ago, and I have to work it out with their coach now, and then go deal with a bunch of teenagers, and…Why am I telling you this? You don’t care.” He sighed.

Darcy laughed. “You should hear about _my_ day. My evil imp of a co-worker took a break _right_ before school got out at Xavier’s. He knows how they swarm.” The guy chuckled. “So, what can I do ya for?” she asked.

“I’ll—“ he stopped as Jane stepped out of the kitchen with a tray full of pink cookies for the display case. “I’ll take a dozen of those,” he said, “and I’m actually here for a job application, too.”

Darcy handed him an application while Jane boxed up the cookies. She glanced at the man, mouthed _“Cute,_ ” and winked at Darcy, who rolled her eyes.

She counted out the man’s change and handed him an application with a wink.

“Have a nice day,” Darcy said, “good luck with the Slytherins.” He laughed.

She watched him pull out his phone and begin texting barely before he'd walked away. And maybe checked out his ass. Maybe.

“Please tell me you got his number,” Jane said after he’d left the shop. “I mean, it’s not like we have a dearth of blonde sex god around here, but you can never have too much,” she said wistfully.

“Ew,” Darcy laughed, “T.M.I.”

“Hey, where’s Loki?” Jane asked, looking around, in case he was hiding underneath a table or something. (Again.)

“Please tell me you did not think of him because you said ‘sex god,’” Darcy said, making a face. “He’s on his lunch break.”

Jane frowned. “He’s not in the back.”

“Don’t ask me where he goes,” Darcy shrugged. “Ask your boyfriend. Isn’t he all about being his brother’s keeper?” Jane glared at Darcy.

“How many applicants do we have so far?” Jane asked, pointedly changing the subject.

"Six filled out, but another eight took blank ones," Darcy answered after a moment, reaching underneath the counter to hand the stack of applications to Jane. She took them and glanced over one grimly.

"'Skills: Can correctly use a semi-colon,'" Jane read, a line appearing between her eyebrows.

"Is that that Wilson guy's?" Darcy asked. "Seemed really weird. Talked to himself a little."

Jane shoved the application to the bottom of the pile and put on a brave face.

"Anyone's better than Volstagg," she sighed. She brushed a strand that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear, marking her cheek with flour. "Why don't you clear off tables? I'll man the counter," Jane said, although she was terrible at making coffee. Jane might have been a genius in the kitchen, Darcy thought (albeit fondly), but she still thought espresso had an 'x' in it.

"Alright," Darcy said, grabbing a rag. The lunch and post-school rushes had passed, so Jane would be fine. For now.

Darcy set to work clearing tables, humming Pink's latest song under her breath as she worked and ignoring the indie rock playing softly through the speakers. She switched songs as she started cleaning the tables in front of the windows, gazing out at the sunny day outside of the bakery.

"Is that 'Shine On, Harvest Moon?'" someone asked, startling Darcy out of her thoughts.

"Uh?" she said, knocking over a cup of coffee and spilling the cold dregs over the table, “Yes -- shit! -- I mean, shoot, don't tell my boss I swore --"

"I'm sorry for surprising you," the voice said as Darcy quickly mopped up the coffee spill.

"It's fine," Darcy said, her face turning red with embarrassment.

"It's just," they continued, "I haven't heard a lot of young people singing along to oldies these days."

From the way he talked, Darcy expected the man to be older, but when she looked up, he was young. Probably her age. Blonde, tall, built...And _hot._ This was definitely her day.

"'Young people?'" she asked in spite of herself, feeling her cheeks redden. He smiled, and the world shone a little brighter to see those pearly whites. _Jesus,_ Darcy thought, _is he Chip Skylark? I would walk a mile just to see_ him _smile._

He laughed. "Sorry, guess I just mean -- I'm Steve Rogers," he said, holding out his hand for her. Darcy shook it, trying really hard not to raise her eyebrows at the gesture.

"Darcy Lewis," she said. He wiped his hand on his jeans and she blushed further, thinking about the coffee gunk on her hands. _Awesome, Darcy._

"So," he said, "'Shine On, Harvest Moon?'" he prompted.

"Kitty," Darcy blurted out. He frowned in confusion, and Darcy internally cursed herself again. "Um, my roommate. Double majored in psychology and history. She's a grad student. Collects records and stuff. She's always playing old music. She loves it."

"What music do you like?" Steve asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Uh, a little of everything," Darcy shrugged. "Pop, classic rock, hip-hop, country; the popular stuff. Also, showtunes," she grinned. "But nothing really weird. Kitty's into, like, really underground stuff, but I don't like any of that hipster shi--" she froze as she finally took in Steve's outfit, the plaid shirt that was rolled up around his elbows, jeans that were way too tight to be legal, Converse in red, white, and blue, and the sketchbook on his table, and finished quickly, "--ships!" she finished loudly, pasting a smile on her face.

"Hipster Ships. Her favorite band. Can't stand it," Darcy continued, just waiting for Steve to roll his eyes and call her a sellout. (Or whatever it was hipsters said to insult everyone else.)

"Never heard of it," Steve said, tilting his head to the side. A crease appeared between his eyes.

Darcy opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by an all-too familiar drawling voice.

"Neither have I," Loki said, appearing behind her. "Tell me, Miss Lewis, what kind of music does Hipster Ships play?" Darcy spun around to glare at Loki. He was wearing his always-spotless green apron and carrying a tray in one hand, as though he'd never abandoned her for a lunch break that had _definitely_ gone over his allotted time.

"Well?" Loki asked, tilting his head to the side as he rested a hand on his hip. "I'm curious."

Darcy narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, wishing she had laser vision or something. That would come in handy.

"Indie," she said. "Indie rock. Sorry, they're not classical or screamo like all of your bands, Loki." Darcy paused for a moment before adding, "You've probably never heard of them." She prided herself in not smirking. At all.

Judging from the look on Loki's face alone, Darcy couldn't tell if he was going to expose her or laugh at her.

"Darcy! Loki!" Jane yelled from the counter, where the espresso machine was making some kind of strangled noise that an espresso machine should never, _ever_ make. "Help!"

Saved by the bell. Darcy sighed and ran over to help Jane shut off the machine.

The coffee exploded all over her and Jane.

*

Thor ran his fingers through Jane’s hair, washing the coffee down the drain. She sighed and stared at the bottom of the sink, trying to hold her hair out of the drain.

“It’s just fucking _typical,_ isn’t it, that the machine breaks, and we’ll need it fixed, and all this happens when we’re short on staff and behind on the loans and Loki’s – ow!” Jane’s voice echoed back at her, muffled by the water and the curve of the back room’s sink. Even to her own ears, she sounded pathetic.

“Jane? Is the water too hot?” Thor asked, concerned. Jane reached up and turned the knobs off. She rang out her hair and turned into the towel Thor handed her.

“It’s fine, Thor,” she murmured into the towel, voice muffled as she dried her hair. “I’m just—“

“Tired?” Thor asked. Jane took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. She let the towel fall out of her hair and into her arms.

“Yeah,” Jane nodded. She hugged the wet towel to her chest and looked up at Thor.

He reached out, placing a hand on her cheek and running it down the soft curve of her jaw to rest on her neck. His hand was warm and comforting, and he used it to pull her close and into an embrace.

Jane folded herself into Thor’s arms, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, full of detergent and flour and frosting, head tucked against his chest. Thor rested his chin in her hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“We can fix the espresso machine,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest that echoed through Jane’s ears. “We can hire new staff. And Loki—“

“Please,” Jane said dryly, “tell me how we can fix your brother.”

“Jane—“

“Joking,” she said halfheartedly, pulling away. “I don’t know how you two managed this place alone.”

Thor chuckled, a soft smile growing on his face as he ran his fingers through her wet hair.

“We didn’t,” he said. “Not until you came along.”

Jane felt naked as she stood barefoot in the back room with wet hair that still stunk of coffee and cold water dripping down the back of her neck. Thor stared at her like she was a queen.

Jane looked down at the too-big t-shirt of Thor’s that hung off her and the pair of black skinny jeans borrowed from Loki that shouldn’t have fit. She clenched her toes together and stared down at the tile floor.

“My mother used to tell me a story,” Thor started.

“Is this the one about the golden apples again?” Jane frowned.

“No,” Thor said quietly, “this one is about a boy. The youngest of his family, a prince.”

“It sounds like the golden apple story,” Jane muttered.

“He was small,” Thor continued, allowing himself a brief smile at Jane’s interruption before his face became solemn. “The smallest and youngest, and bullied by others. He wasn’t innocent, however, for he took pleasure in his sharp tongue.”

Thor paused and wet his lips. “He was jealous and foolish. He wasn’t as strong as his older brother, nor as quick as the crown prince’s friends. He could not fight, could barely wield a sword, and his arrows never met their mark. He was embittered, and filled with rage and jealously. He teased the others around him, using his sharp mind to toy with his warrior peers. ‘Brains over brawn,’ he chided them, and his taunts always hit their targets.”

Jane watched as Thor looked downwards, his eyelashes dark on his cheeks.

“One day, his older brother became worried about him, fearing that his younger brother would rely on his wits instead of wisdom, and get himself into trouble. He went to their mother, and said, ‘O, Queen, I beg of you, teach my brother your magics, for he is quick-witted of mind, but his strength is that of a sorcerer, and not of a warrior.’” Thor cleared his throat. “Their mother agreed, and, taking the younger prince under her arm, taught him her magics. She taught him to change his form, to cast glamour, to keep his mind sharp as the daggers he carried.”

“She taught him a different kind of strength,” Thor nodded, “perseverance. And he became skilled in his own right, able to stand as tall as any warrior, and known for his mastery of magics.”

“ _My_ mother used to say, ‘Keep on keeping on,’” Jane said with a wry smile. She leaned up to kiss Thor on the cheek.

“Our mothers appear to have different types of wisdom,” Thor said, a twinkle in his eye. “But it is wisdom, all the same.”

“Come on,” Jane sighed, draping her towel over a chair to dry. “Let’s get back to work.”

She slipped into her shoes and slipped through the crack in the break room door. As Thor followed her back into the kitchen, she turned to him.

“Thor,” she said, “what happened to the boy? The prince. The youngest.”

Thor looked down, considering.

“He served under his brother, the warrior king, for many years,” he said, eyes trained on the tiles of the floor. “He was the wisest adviser any king or kingdom knew. Together, they brought peace to the realm.”

“Sounds nice,” Jane said thoughtfully, turning back to her giant mixing bowls and recipes, and away from Thor. She bit her lip in silent consideration.

“Yes,” Thor said quietly as he tied his apron, “yes, it would be.”

*

Loki let his hand fall from the kitchen door, closing it without a sound. He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Ahem,” someone said loudly from the other side of the counter.

With a sigh, Loki turned and walked over to the cash register, where a blonde woman in a bomber jacket was waiting for him.

"May I take your order?" Loki asked. The woman gave him an unimpressed look.

"Afternoon, Loki. I'll take two brownies to go," she said, glancing into the display case. "Where's Darcy?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the whereabouts of Miss Lewis," he said as he took his time choosing the brownies from the display case. "I am not her keeper."

"I have a friend in the police force who will drag the lake if I say the word," the woman said, crossing her arms.

"I think it is far more likely that Miss Lewis would murder _me_ and throw me in the lake," Loki sighed, dropping the brownies into a brown paper bag.

She laughed. "I wouldn’t blame her, working with you."

"You misunderstand," Loki said with a smile. "I simply mean that she is foolish enough to dispose of a body in such a way. That will be four dollars, Miss Danvers."

"And just for that, I'm not tipping," Carol said as she handed Loki exact change. "Tell Thor I said hi."

The door swung shut behind her, the bells tingling sharply.

"Aw, did I miss Carol?" Darcy said as she appeared behind Loki, wearing fresh clothes and a clean apron. She still smelled strongly of coffee, but Loki wasn't going to point that out.

"She expressed her disappointment that you haven't murdered me and dumped my body in the lake yet," Loki said in a bored voice.

"I work at a bakery, Loki," Darcy said with a sigh, taking her place at the espresso machine. "I could always bake you into a pie."

"I was actually going to ask for a piece of pie, but I think I'll pass, now," someone said. Loki turned to the customer, a businessman, by the look of his suit and the way he was balding.

"Loki's still alive, so you're safe," Darcy said cheerfully. "But the chocolate cupcakes are totally vegetarian, and totally Loki-free. Also, gluten free."

"We have a variety of gluten-free products," Loki said in a monotone. The man looked back.

"I'll take the rest of your cupcakes, then," the man said, pulling his wallet out of his pants.

"Good man," Darcy said cheerfully.

"Cash or credit?" Loki intoned.

He swiped the man's credit card, checked his signature with his Driver's License, and handed _Phillip J. Coulson_ his box of cupcakes.

"Have a nice day!" Darcy said cheerfully as the man left the bakery. She turned to Loki. "Jane wanted me to ask you if you'd take Sif's shift tomorrow."

Through gritted teeth, Loki asked, "And why couldn't Miss Foster ask me this herself?"

"Because your brother is fussing over her in the back room," Darcy said, rolling her eyes. "He’s making sure she’s fine by kissing it better. Or something." She shuddered. Loki turned the corners of his mouth down in disgust.

"I don’t suppose I have a choice in the matter?" Loki asked with a petulant air.

"Thor will pay you overtime," Darcy sing-songed, smiling as she dangled Loki's one true weakness in front of him: money. Loki pretended to consider it, if only for the sake of appearances.

"Fine," he said.

Darcy didn’t miss a beat as she turned and hollered, "Yo, Jane, he's down, and I'm out," into the back room, completely ignoring how half of the patrons in the room jumped. A man spilled coffee over his iPad as he looked up at her. Loki smirked.

Darcy peeled off her apron and shoved it underneath the cash register.

"And where are you going?" Loki said, raising an eyebrow. It was near to closing time, but the work at the bakery never ended.

"Home," Darcy sighed, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She poured herself a plain black coffee in a to-go cup and snapped the lid on. "I have an all-nighter of speed-reading and half-assed research ahead of me. Don't go to college, Loki. Stay a cashier forever."

"I shall take your advice to heart," Loki said flatly. Darcy waved as she bounced out of the bakery. The door jingled shut behind her, bouncing the _'Help Wanted_ ' sign until it flew off the door and onto the ground. It lay there, face down. Loki glared at it for a moment, looked around to see if any of the customers might be the helpful type, and wished that the sign would burst into flames.

He sighed when it didn’t and went to hang the dreadful sign back up on the door.


End file.
